Bonds of Silver, Bonds of Gold 12: Trial (Part 3)

The sergeant-at-arms, dressed only in an oversized bedshirt, stopped cold in the doorway to the baron’s room, my master directly behind him. He took the cover off of the witchlight beside the baron’s bed, then turned to look at me. The lynx’s eyes went round as dinner plates and his ears pulled flat against his head, but his paws remained steady as he knelt beside me. “Go to the barracks,” he said flatly, addressing the wolf without turning around. “Wake Chelin. Send him to Iladin’s and have him bring the sage here with whatever he can carry. Tell him not to take no for an answer. Then come back.” His tone accepted no argument, and my master backed out of the room, then sprinted away.

The lynx’s paws were cool where they touched me, and his fingers were gentle, almost delicate, as he turned my head to inspect the results of my master’s rage. I tried to speak, to explain that I had provoked my master into it, but my muzzle refused to open, pain lancing up the side of my head when I tried. Mister Valentin shook his head in response, laying a finger across his lips. “Don’t speak, pet; you’re hurt.” He smiled slightly. “So’s he, but we’ll take care of both of you.”

Without giving me time to wonder what he meant, Mister Valentin shifted onto one hind, then put a paw on my shoulder. “I’m going to get you onto the bed. Hold still, Taneh, this is going to hurt.” With that warning, he gingerly raised me to a sitting position, then lifted me into the air. Pain shot through me as I felt things inside me move when they shouldn’t, but only a few whimpers escaped me as the lynx carried me to my master’s bed and laid me upon it. Blood immediately soaked into my master’s pillow, but Mister Valentin just chuckled. “Good. Good pet,” the sergeant-at-arms crooned softly as he stroked between my ears with a paw. “That was rough, I know, but you did well. Iladin will be here soon; he’ll know what to do with you.”

I lifted a paw to Mister Valentin’s, then ran my stubby digits down his arm; it was the only gesture of thanks I could make for his kindness. The sergeant-at-arms took it in his fingers and squeezed gently, then rubbed his pads against the fur of my palm. “Listen, Taneh, you’ve been a good pet.” he said softly. “You’ve just been through something very rough, but it’s over now. He won’t ever hurt you again.”

I choked back a sob, but not from the lynx’s words or my injuries. In my mind’s eye, my master’s face loomed large, his lips locked in a snarl and tears streaming down his cheeks as his fists rose for the final blow. Remembering him that way, he seemed less like Baron Deterikh, and more like a wounded animal fighting for his life. I wanted to speak, but my muzzle wouldn’t let me. I struggled to sit up, tried to force it open enough to explain, but the pain was too great, and I collapsed back against the bed, fighting back tears.

“Easy, easy, pet.” Mister Valentin soothed. I heard the door to my master’s room bang, then two sets of hurried steps. A heavy-set wolf in a loose-fitting top and drawstring pants stepped into the light, carrying a pack on his shoulders. Behind him walked an elderly raccoon wearing a jacket thrown over a nightgown. The sergeant-at-arms rose and bowed. “Master Iladin, thank you for coming out at this hour.” He nodded to the guard. “Chelin, thank you; I’ll manage from here.”

While the wolf dropped his pack and left the room, Master Iladin approached the bed, fumbling in his jacket. He pulled out a pair of spectacles and pinched them to the bridge of his muzzle. “So maybe you’ll tell me what happened here.” He leaned in and squinted at me; his spectacles made his amber eyes look huge.

Mister Valentin crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe you’ll tell me; you’re the one that pronounced the baron fit for the throne.”

The sage rose stiffly at that and turned to the sergeant-at-arms. “Erik did this? Wilik’s son?” The lynx nodded, and Master Iladin turned back to me with a sniff, his eyes going even wider. “I can’t believe it. There’s nothing in his charts suggesting this kind of fury!” He leaned in close and squinted, then brought one bony paw up to my muzzle and carefully turned it, making me moan.

“Listen, Iladin, charts or no, that’s Erik’s work.” Mister Valentin’s shook his head as he talked, his ears splayed. “He came crying to me with blood on his paws. I found his pet here in the floor, in that condition. I picked em up and put em in the bed.”

Master Iladin sniffed again, then rose and walked to the pack that Chelin dropped. “It’s completely unimaginable, though. I checked his charts myself. Twice!” He pulled out vials and jars, as well as a roll of white cloth. “Marek’s completely occluded by Oshka in House Mora, Zofia’s in Vira, yes I know that Gyuli is in Tsarka and not Krol where I’d have rather seen it, but… well, from here it’s conjecture without my maps.” He waved a paw dismissively and returned to the bed. “My point is that my pronouncement at the time was sound. I’m as surprised by this turn as you are.”

The lynx waved a paw dismissively. “You’ll have time for your charts tomorrow. Tonight I need to know if you can help the baron’s pet. Ey’s my responsibility.”

“I already am,” the sage replied. He took a seat near the edge of the bed. “The physical, I can fix; the rest….” He began sprinkling the powders on my muzzle; they stung at first, making me whimper, but the pain did begin to ease afterwards. He forced my jaws apart enough to pour the liquid past my lips. It tasted dank and sour, and I started to gag, but he put a paw over my face. “Hold that as long as you can, then swallow; it will soften the bones and let me work.”

With that admonition, I settled back against my master’s bed and counted in my head, trying not to spit out the foul-tasting brew. With my muzzle full, I could only breathe through my nose, filling my nostrils with the moldy smell. It began to trickle down my throat, and I struggled not to gag. By sixteen, though, I could no longer hold back, and I pitched forward. Mister Valentin caught my shoulder, but I choked down the potion with a cough. Before I could lie back, though, the sage’s other paw caught the underside of my muzzle and gently eased it forward. I felt a twinge of pain, but nothing like the agony of before as he carefully worked my jaws apart.

As soon as Master Iladin’s fingers were free of my muzzle, I stretched it open in a yawn, which made Mister Valentin smile. “That’s a good sign.”

Master Iladin nodded. “It’s a step. He’s likely got cracked ribs and those clawmarks are deep.” He added another sprinkling of powders to my cheek, then gently pressed the cloth down over them. “Have him hold that there; it will stop the bleeding and take away some of the pain. I’ll want to go home and fetch a few things. In the meantime, he should sleep if he can.”

“It’s ‘ey,’” Mister Valentin corrected with a chuckle, “but yes, ey should. Listen, Iladin, thank you again for coming so quickly. Will ey make it to morning?”

The sage nodded again with a sniff. “Assuming you can keep em from moving, yes. I’ll want to do some fine work on eir muzzle, and ey’ll be weak for a few days, but ey’ll survive.”

The sergeant-at-arms sagged forward at that, then put a paw gently on the top of my head. “You gave me quite a scare, pet. Now, I just need to follow up with Erik, make sure he’s—” A knock at the door interrupted him, and the lynx turned. “Oh, good, you’re… not Erik. Chelin, where’s the baron?”

The stocky wolf from before shook his head, leaning against the door frame. “His mount was gone when I returned, sir, as was my spear.” He wheezed softly as he spoke. “The outer gatekeepers said they saw him riding westward, back towards Jazinsk.”

Mister Valentin stood, struck dumb as if poleaxed. “He… oh, Great Family.” He gripped his muzzle in his paws. “Wake Inika and your two best archers. Wear out as many horses as you need, but get him back. I don’t care if you have to kill his mount to do it; if he reaches the front, he’s a dead man.”